All I Want Is The Taste That Your Lips Allow
by valonqar
Summary: post 3x19: on the car ride home from the roadtrip, Elena has a less than PG-13 dream about a certain raven-haired vampire. Combine that with sleep-talking/moaning, and you've got a recipe for disaster...or something else entirely
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N:** This is super short, just a prologue into a smutty, but plot-driven and romantic Damon/Elena fic. Basically, I don't really write without giving my readers a preview of what the story is first, so I can know if they like it. So PLEASE! If you don't give kudos/reviews and you like the story, I won't continue because I won't know if anyone even likes it!_

_xx_

_Jesus Christ, she had lost her mind._

That was the only explanation for...this, this _whatever_ it was that she was currently feeling for Damon. She was going completely mental, losing anything and everything that she had ever taken pride in about herself - the fact that she had been able to resist Damon, that he didn't have a hold on her like he did on other girls, like she could look into his eyes and say "no", those deep, beautiful, _endless_ eyes...

_Shit._

It wasn't fair, honestly. Not in the least. All of the days she had spent with Damon when Stefan was gone, just being with him, away from all the drama and disdain of their typical daily lives; all of those days, she hadn't felt anything other than affection. He had been sort of a lost little puppy to her, someone who she could fix, someone who she could take up and help make a better person, bring out the good in him. And she had _done_ that. Damon had proved to her that there was good in him countless times, sacrificing practically his entire life for her, for her friends, for the people she loved and cared about, and for the people he loved - because, no matter how much he liked to deny it, he loved more than anyone she had ever met. She knew it, had seen it with her own eyes. When Damon loved, he loved with his entire being, and that was all he had ever known.

No, she hadn't felt anything other than a fondness for him until it was far too late, until Stefan had returned, had come back to being _her_Stefan (although she didn't think he could really be hers again, not the way he had been before). Stefan had come back and despite everything she had loved him, loved him like she did the first time they met, loved him even when he was doing everything in his power to make him hate her.

And then...Damon. He just kinda crept up on her.

It was the roadtrip. She blames the entire fucking thing, everything that was happening to her and the giant whirlwind of emotions that was fluttering around her stomach on the roadtrip. What else could it be? They became friends on a roadtrip (she can't deny it, Atlanta was the most fun she had had in basically her entire high school life. Pathetic? Probably, but she's not one to lie. Not anymore).

So, yeah. The road trip kinda brought the feelings forward, she understands that. Flights alone with Damon? A dark, secluded motel room? Damon without his shirt on? Recipe for disaster, she's the first one to admit it. But _none_ of those things prepared her for the car ride home, none of what she was feeling should have caused certain...events to transpire. It wasn't right. It just wasn't.

Yeah, she was definitely losing her mind.

xx

_The room was quiet and dark, the only light coming from the flickering candles in the corner. It takes her a second to realize where she is, what she's doing there, why she even entered the room in the first place, but all of a sudden she realizes that it's Damon's room, and her purpose there couldn't be any more clear._

_It's been happening for months now. Everything they've been through, everything they've done together, all the kisses and the eye-fucking and the sexual tension, everything's been building to this moment here, and she's shocked it took her so long to see the truth behind it. Bonnie and Caroline saw it months ago, along with Alaric, and Jenna, and probably even Jeremy. Stefan saw it, Stefan pushed her into it, made her try and figure things out with that damn road trip - and she has figured it out. She knows now. She understands._

_And she's so done with fighting._

_He's sound asleep in his bed, and she walks over with extra-soft feet to try and ensure that he doesn't awake. Elena wants to surprise him like he's surprised her, like he surprises her every day that she knows him. And so when she leans over and kisses him, sweetly, innocently, she can't help but smile at his start._

"_What are you _doing?_" His voice is thick with confusion and sleep, but she can still hear the desire there, sense his want, and it's enough to keep her going without blushing or stuttering. "Elena, you don't have to...are you sure?" he asks, and when she gives him coy smile his usual easy grin slides onto his face, the sleep slowly starting to leave his eyes. "You know, once you get into this bed there's no stopping me."_

"_I'm planning on it," she replies, mischief dancing in her eyes, and she lets out a girlish shriek when he pulls her into bed, lips covering hers with vampire quickness, nothing but want and love, pure love left in his kisses. This is good. This is _right,_ and she hates herself for taking so long to realize it. Because what could she have been afraid of? That he would hurt her? She doesn't think he's capable of doing anything to hurt her, not anymore, not after this. She's the one who could hurt him, could break him into pieces at the snap of her fingers..._

_But no. Elena knows she won't be able to hurt him ever again, couldn't even if she tried. All they've done, all they've known for so long has been pain, playing an ongoing game of cat and mouse, desperately trying to see who can make the other bleed the most. And now, in his bed, she can't remember what pain feels like, doesn't know anything than the gentle caresses of his hands, the insistent pressure of his lips on hers, on her neck, traveling further and further down, all she knows and will ever know is the pleasure that he's giving her when his lips, his fingers, his tongue begin to do something to her which Stefan and Matt never did, not ever, and she loves him, and..._

_Fuck._

Elena wakes with a start, knowing what she must look like in the dim light of the car right now. She can feel the heat in her cheeks, her face an entirely unappealing shade of red, and knows that Damon must be able to hear her heart beating extraordinarily loud - in the tense silence, she can hear it herself. Her hair is mussed and she's sweating, and then there's the rather _telling_ evidence that she knows for a fact she was moaning before she woke up.

And then there's the look on Damon's face, the deer-in-headlights, what-the-hell-just-happened look as he stares at her, not even glancing towards the road, the look that exactly mirrored the one on his face in her dream. He's confused and concerned and curious and afraid, but there's that same desire there, the desire that he holds in his eyes every time he looks at her. She's seen in from him time and time again, but now she finds she can't bring herself to look at it, not after what her brain just conjured up. So she turns away, staring out the window and trying to bring herself to relax, that there's no way he could know _what_ she was dreaming about, that she's find, they're fine, nothing happened, and then he speaks and her heart drops.

"You said my name," he says matter-of-factly, no hint of emotion in his voice other than confusion.

She immediately whips her head to the back seat, relieved to see that Jeremy is sleeping. At least she can take comfort in that, in the fact that her little brother didn't have to overhear her having an incredibly sexual dream about her ex-boyfriend's brother. After him walking in - or out, she supposes, since they weren't exactly in the most private of places - on the two of them at the motel, that was the _last_ thing that they needed.

And then she realizes that Damon is still staring at her expectantly, waiting for her to explain herself, give him an explanation, help him understand what it was that just happened, and she finds herself scrambling for ideas. What could she say?_ "Yes, Damon, I had a dream that we were about to fuck in your bed after a kiss that I initiated while you were sleeping, and I was wearing slinky black lingerie and you were wearing nothing, and oh, did I mention that you were amazing? and I think we should act it out sometime. What do you think?"_

Yeah, not going to happen.

But he was still staring her with that look in his eyes, the one that made her feel naked and exposed, and she decided to simply say the first thing that came to her mind. "Are you sure? Because I was dreaming about deamons, so..." And holy shit, mother of God, if that isn't the worst excuse anyone has ever used in their entire life.

Damon knows it, too (of course he does, he's not an idiot - anyone with a brain would be able to tell that that was a desperate lie, and Damon was too smart by half). "You said my name." he repeats, this time more to himself than to her, and she decides that, clearly, her best option is just to close her eyes, try to sleep, and pretend that none of this weird shit happened, that she never dreamed anything at all, that _this_ is all a dream and Damon will never have to know that her subconscious want him in her pants.

So she closes her eyes, but no way in hell does she sleep. Elena doesn't know if she'll ever be able to sleep properly again.


	2. Excuses, Excuses

_**A/N: **Hey guys! I know this is super short again, and I promised you the next chapter would be longer, but I was really overwhelmed by the positive response this story got, and I wanted to get something up for you ASAP. That, and I will be at dance competition for the majority of this weekend, and since I don't really know how much I'm going to be able to post, I wanted you guys to at least have something. Please remember to comment - I'm hoping for at least a total of 20 comments on this story before I start the next chapter, so if you like it, don't be afraid to tell me! Thanks so much all, love you!_

_xoxo Molly _

_xx_

_The motel room was nearly pitch-black, the only light coming from the full moon's shine through the window. It certainly couldn't be called a beautiful scene - the room itself wasn't exactly of high quality, small and shabby and in desperate need of a paint job - but basking in the glow of the night, she felt as if it could almost be called...romantic._

_And then Damon sat in a chair by the window, shirt unbuttoned, cup of his ever-present whisky in his hand, looking distraught and real and so completely _Damon _that all of a sudden, _perfect _was the only word that came to her mind._

_It wasn't normal. It wasn't comfortable, it wasn't something that was going to come easy to her, whatever this was. It wasn't like she would all of a sudden be able to admit that she was in love with him, could easily come to terms with the fact that he was the one who she would be spending the rest of her life with (because he is, she knows this by now, and somewhere in the back of her mind she thinks that she's always known this, that she must have). Loving Damon isn't ever going to be normal, or comfortable, or easy. But it was real, and it was right, and now, in that moment, with the shimmering light reflecting in his hair like little stars, she thought it was enough._

_He catches her eyes from across the room, and although she isn't startled - to be honest, she was kind of hoping this would happen - she is suddenly incredibly unsure of what to do, and, feeling as if he is staring directly through her, through every layer of her being, she finds herself unable to do anything else but close her eyes, and pretend that sleep is coming to her, that it was an accident._

_It would have worked on anyone else. Were it Stefan, or Matt, or any other boy that she had been wondering at, she would have been able to play it off. But it's Damon, and she's learned by now that with him, things are always going to be different._

_So Elena doesn't even fight it when her eyes open once more, catching his and not looking away. She feels as if there's great importance to be found in this one moment, that this is not simply two people making eye-contact in a silent motel room. This is two people having a conversation without words, telling each other everything and anything that they could ever need to know without even saying it out loud, and she doesn't even think they'll need to say anything to each other again, not after this. Because he's looking right into her soul, past her eyes and past her mind and into her very _being, _into everything that she is and everything that she has been and everything that she will ever be._

_It's all so much, so much for her to handle, and by the time she blinks she's standing outside in the cold, back to the door, cardigan wrapped around her body tight with a pounding heart and a tingling in her left hand that she doesn't think has to do with the bite of the night air._

_The humm of the vending machine drowns out his virtually silent vampire footsteps, but she's grown so accustomed to his presence that when he follows behind her, she doesn't feel the need to turn around. That, and she doesn't think that she can, because if she has to look into his eyes, _those_ eyes, eyes as deep as the ocean and more, she thinks that she might break down completely. Her resolve is crumbling, crumbling with every time he looks at her, every time he smiles, every time he does something good, something amazing, something that takes her breath away and surprises her. And these things are happening more and more often, swiftly and in succession, so much so that she doesn't she'll be able to hold out much longer._

_So she says "Don't," with a firmness she didn't know she possessed, although she knows that he can hear how unsure she is, that he can even see it in the way she still won't turn around to meet his eyes. Damon wants to come closer, she knows he does, but she also knows that it's a dangerous game they're playing, and one move could push both of them over the edge. So he stays back, and she stays in place, but it doesn't stop him from questioning her, pushing her, making her doubt herself more and more as the seconds tick by._

"_Why not?" he replies, just the way she expected him to, annoyed and frustrated and ready to just take what he wants from her and get it over with, but there's a tenderness there too, something that's present when he says her name. "Elena," he says, and the word is so sweet and full of love, said with such reverence that it nearly breaks her heart in two, and it's right then and there that she knows she's defeated._

_So when she turns around to face him, she doesn't even try to fight it. Instead, she practically runs forwards and presses her lips against his, pulling him towards her in a desperate attempt to fuse their bodies together, to truly make them one like they have been doing for so long with their minds, trying to bring them closer than they could ever be, because that's where she needs him. She needs him _with_ her, beside her and behind her for the rest of her life, it's so clear to her now, now with her back pressed against a wall and his lips kissing down her neck, hungry, impatient, _desperate_. They've both wanted this for so long, both needed it more than anything without really knowing how much they needed it at all._

_Elena pulls his face back up to meet hers, exhaling a breathy, almost prayer-like "Damon," before pulling his lips back against her own, searching, begging, wanting. His hands are travelling down her stomach, down to an area where only Stefan has been, somewhere where she thought only Stefan would be, but now Damon is here and his touch is so sweet, his caresses so gentle that she finds she cannot resist, only arch herself desperately against him and moan softly into his mouth, giving him permission, welcoming him into her._

_xx_

Five days. Five days since she's seen Damon, five days since the roadtrip, five days since the dream in the car, and she's still having these dreams.

Well, one dream, to be exact. The same fucking dream every single night, based at the motel, in which she's basically allowing the eldest Salvatore to dry-hump her against a wall. Of course, it always _ends_ at the same point too, right before they actually do anything...indecent, and she's assuming that that's the point where Jeremy comes to tell them about Rose. It ends everything far too soon, far too quickly, and she can never tell if she's grateful for that, or angry.

She's going to go with grateful.

(Although she's almost positive that's not quite right).

In any case, the entire situation has gotten completely and totally out of hand. A dirty dream in a car? That she could deal with, minus the complete humiliation of moaning Damon's name out loud and all. One dream was nothing, especially since it was only a couple of hours after the whole motel kiss happened - there was nothing weird about that, not at all. As much as she hates to admit it, it _was _one damn good kiss, so of course she's going to be all strung up like a bow a few hours later, sitting in a dark, isolated car right next to him. After all, she may run with vampires and witches and hybrids, but she _was_ only human, a female human at that, and any normal human could see that Damon Salvatore was completely fucking gorgeous.

But to still be dreaming about him every single night for five days after the kiss happened? She was almost positive that something was severely wrong with her. There was something incredibly infuriating about waking up five mornings in a row completely drenched in sweat, exceptionally turned on, ridiculously sexually frustrated, and knowing that the cause of all of it was completely in your reach but not knowing how _you _felt about him. Even though dream-Elena claimed to be madly in love with Damon, reality-Elena wasn't quite so sure. There was something there, definitely, but what it was?

That was going to take her awhile to figure out.

So in the meantime she had done anything and everything in her power to avoid him, claiming she needed to "take a break from vampire drama and spend some quality time with Jer,". She was almost positive he didn't believe it - and why should he, when she didn't even believe it herself? It was a bullshit excuse, and one she kept using repeatedly, to practically everyone she knew.

The whole dream-sex thing was even taking a toll on her looks. Elena rolled out of her bed to stare at herself in the bathroom mirror, scrunching up her face at what she saw: frazzled hair, bags under her eyes, and a frown on her face that made her look like a pouty child. Normally she was a complete morning person, but mornings were nowhere near as fun when you were dreaming about sex - incredibly amazing sex - with the person you were supposed to be nothing more than friends (and occasionally enemies) with. Her sleeps had been restless even when she wasn't dreaming, providing her with a total of about four hours quality sleep a night, and she was starting to think she wouldn't be able to survive much longer with such a complete lack of energy.

"God damn you, Damon Salvatore," she muttered under her breath, giving her reflection in the mirror the middle finger as she imagined it was him she was staring at, even though she knew for a fact he probably looked ten times more gorgeous right then than she did. "God damn you and your stupid fucking vampire soul straight to the deepest pits of hell." And saying it almost helped her feel better, almost helped her pretend that her life wasn't such a massive fucking joke.

Almost.


End file.
